


Hurt

by captainstarspangled



Category: Antoine Griezmann - Fandom, Football - Fandom, Laurent Koscielny - Fandom, Soccer - Fandom
Genre: Cute, Euro 2016, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Men Crying, Olivier Giroud is a cutie, Trust, UEFA European Championship, antoine griezmann needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:58:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7492902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainstarspangled/pseuds/captainstarspangled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Antoine didn't really show emotions on the pitch after the defeat against Portugal, he has to let it out on the bus. But thankfully, Laurent is there for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> prompts are open.

They were all standing close to each other, hugging, talking and crying. Antoine didn't dare to go over there. He didn't want to show his emotions in front of the fans, he could've done better after all. He was just walking around on the pitch, lost in his thoughts and not willing to believe that they had only won a silver medal. He wanted to be the one holding that trophy with the word 'France' on it. The time until they called him to go up to the podium to be given the medal passed by too fast for his taste because as soon as they were putting it on him, or tried to for that matter, it was official. He wouldn't win another EURO for at least for years.   
Being handed the golden boot didn't offer a lot of comfort and he couldn't wait to get back to the hotel and be alone. The whole time until they went back to the dressing room, he had his mouth pressed into a thin line and his teammates started to notice. Laurent put a hand on his shoulder while they were walking in. "Are you okay?"   
Antoine nodded eagerly, looking at the golden boot in his hand again. "I'm good," he said.  
No one talked while they were taking their showers. The whole team was simply exhausted and not really in the mood to talk. They had worked hard and played well, better than the Portuguese for their taste. But knowing that didn’t help, it probably even exacerbated their moods.  
It had been a tradition for teams trained by Didier Deschamps to go and sleep at the same hotel whenever they dropped out of a tournament. He wanted his team collected, to be with them when they were sad because it was a team sport after all, and he felt responsible for them. Didier Deschamps wasn’t a man to leave someone after a sad event, even if it was ‘only’ his job.  
Dressed into their FFF training suits, Antoine and Laurent were the first ones to leave the dressing rooms. Laurent was wearing his silver medal, while Antoine’s had been stuffed into the pocket of his jogging pants. The younger one of the two was carrying the golden boot in his left hand and a bag in his right hand.   
They found the bus quickly and sat down next to each other in about the middle, Antoine on the window seat. The two of them were good friends, they usually sat next to each other but today, Laurent thought that it was even more important for Antoine to sit next to someone he knew well and felt comfortable around.   
The seats around them were all taken a few minutes later and when they’d made sure everyone was here, the bus left the Stade de France. Antoine hadn’t said a word since telling Laurent that he was okay.   
Once the driver had entered their destination, he informed everyone that the drive would take about three hours. He turned on the engine then and they left the parking of the stadium.   
Antoine looked out of the window. At what they were leaving behind. The 23 golden medals. The huge trophy. And looking at his boot was enough to make him tear up. He would’ve deserved this. Especially after making 2nd in the Champions League.   
His head was facing downwards, so the tears that left his eyes fell on the boot and not down his face. Laurent noticed that and laid an arm around the boy’s shoulder. He texted everyone in the team, except for Antoine, to tell them that the boy had finally showed emotion about their defeat. Everyone had been worried about him and wanted him to show at least a bit of emotion. “It’s okay,” Laurent reassured the boy while rubbing his back. Antoine lifted his head, looking at Laurent with big and glassy eyes. He was inhaling short, sharp breaths.   
“We lost,” he whispered. “I lost again.”   
It was killing Laurent to see Antoine like that. He was just quietly enduring his misery and not really letting any sadness out with the silent crying he was performing here.   
“You were the best player of the tournament Grizi, that says a lot. You know that the Portuguese don’t deserve that trophy.”  
While Laurent was trying to console the boy next to him, the others looked into their bags for a blanket since they knew that the best cure for anything was sleep.  
It was Paul who got assigned to bringing Antoine the blanket. He approached them carefully. Antoine was sitting in the same position like 10 minutes ago, boot in both his hands and staring at it while tears dropped down his face. He looked up when Olivier approached them.   
“How you feeling kiddo?” The question was completely unnecessary but Olivier had had to somehow make his presence known. “Look, I got you Paul’s blanket. You should sleep. You look tired,” Olivier told him and gave Laurent the blanket.  
Antoine didn’t think about this twice. He laid his head down on Laurent’s lap, clutching the boot to his chest and waiting for the blanket to be put around him. When it did, he whispered the softest “thank you,” Olivier and Laurent would think they’d ever heard.  
And when the boy fell asleep with Laurent’s hand running through his hair, he didn’t feel as devastated as before.


End file.
